


Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Affair [7]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Divorce, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-07 09:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7710247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne begin to engage in an open war against Oberyn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold Without You

**Author's Note:**

> I totally ripped the title of this installment from House Martell's words. All characters are George RR Martin's but the pleasure is mine :-)

It was past midnight but Jaime was not in bed nor even beside Brienne. He sat on the floor across from the bed, leaning against the wall. His speech had begun to slur due to the sleepiness overcoming his body that was deeply exhausted to begin with. Yet he remained determinedly, stubbornly awake. Just as resolute was Brienne. He had managed to resist yawning while she was unable to stop hers.

Brienne, sitting at the foot of the bed, squirmed under Jaime’s furious stare. They had been arguing since arriving from the police station. They had a tensed cab ride, Jaime ready to blow a gasket because of what happened in Castle Black and also getting his head around Tywin’s summons and Brienne feeling as if daggers had been burrowed in her body as Cersei glared at her. She had a sour expression on her face as the commotion broke out in Castle Black and it soured even more at the police station as she paid for her brother’s bail. When Jaime asked Ned to drop the others off while he and Brienne took a cab, she didn’t disguise her hate for Brienne anymore, staring at her with open contempt. True, it was wrong for them to flaunt their relationship but if there was anyone going to judge them, Cersei wouldn’t make it in the short list. Still Brienne had been embarrassed and was self-conscious when Jaime kept his arm around her waist as the others piled in Ned’s car. 

Once they were home, the tension was too much and they turned to each other for a consuming, angry kiss that knocked Brienne to the floor, Jaime easily crawling on top of her. She wailed when he ripped her blouse but moaned and clung when his lips and teeth attacked her breasts like a man possessed. She wanted to tell him no, they should talk, this was wrong, right now, but she helped him undress, first herself then him. It was a despondent, frustrated fuck on the floor. She stared at everywhere else but Jaime, ignoring his pleas to look at him. Instead she squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to fight the hard pleasure he poured into her body, submitting with a painful clench in her heart with tears and whimpers. She continued to sob as he flipped her on her stomach and slammed his cock inside her asshole. She stilled. He froze. Jaime didn’t know that Oberyn had taken her like this the last time. Everything in her mind screamed this was wrong, not the act but they shouldn’t be doing this, not now. They should be talking. But she pushed her hips against his thighs, groaning as his hairs tickled her bottom and the club-like head of his cock slipped deeper inside. Taking this as a sign she was alright, he responded with a thrust. One. Another. Harder. _Gods._ Her mouth fell open.

There was the sharp bite of discomfort that quickly dissipated the more he fucked her. It hurt more when it was Oberyn, and she wondered if it was because Jaime was panting in her ear that he loved her, that rather than harsh gasps it was the gentle feathering of his breath against her sweaty nape and his careful but needy motions. She could feel him everywhere, inside her, in her head, his hands bruising her hips. The growing burn in her nipples rasping repeatedly against the carpet couldn’t jostle past them. If anything, it was the last ingredient because she shot toward a violent release. It took everything from her. Everything. For when she woke up only then did she realize she must have fainted or fallen asleep from the emotional drain of the day, and Jaime was still lying on top of her, buried deep. She had no idea how long they slept, only that they fucked two more times and there was no discomfort this time because she was loose. Her orgasm was a soft gasp; there was so much she had lost. An awkward, soft kiss with her head turned to the side stopped the world from spinning.

The relief was only temporary. As soon as they were showered and dressed, they started arguing. She had pleaded and he refused, then he pleaded and she refused. As the hours piled on, it became clear neither was backing down.

“This is the right thing to do,” she told him for a hundredth time. She sat at the foot of the bed with a pillow under her. Jaime had glanced at her curiously but she made sure not to let her soreness be betrayed by the slightest flicker of a grimace.“You don’t think Oberyn knows I’m living with you? If he followed me to the restaurant as Marge accused him of where else do you think he has followed me? From where? For how long?”

“It’s about time he knows you’re here.” Jaime insisted. “He knows about us—what’s the point of hiding? Why continue lying? We’re just going to look like fools if I agree to that, Brienne. And if you think being apart would give us some safety you’re mistaken. That’s exactly what he wants. I’ve been telling you and you won’t listen.”

“You’re not listening either. It’s only temporary. Just until the divorce. It’s me he wants. Not you.”

Jaime sighed. “Wench, if he makes that threat to sue my family real, I think it’s pretty clear it’s not only your blood he wants. How many times did we try serving him papers, huh? Three times. Three fucking times. No wonder he hardly stayed with you. That’s a rare talent, being away.”

Brienne flinched and looked away from him. Realizing he erred, Jaime faltered, “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

She looked at her hands. “We can’t be together right now.”

“The fuck we can’t!” He roared, shooting to his feet agilely despite clearly being sleepy. “How can you say that? We need each other now more than ever. We need to stand together and not let him destroy us. Why is it so easy for you to think about leaving me—us?”

Brienne was outraged. “Of course I don’t want to leave!”

“Could have fooled me.”

“That’s unfair. I want us to separate for now for your own good.”

“You do not get to make that decision by yourself. I’m in this relationship too. I say no.”

“Jaime—“

_“No.”_

“Think about what he’ll expose about your family! This isn’t just us versus Oberyn anymore. He’s declared war on your family because of me. The sooner we’re apart—“

Jaime glared at her. “Did you fall on your head or something? What part of no did you not understand?”

She scowled. “Is there some intelligence lurking in you? Because I am so fucking tired of trying to argue sensibly—“

“You’re not making sense. It doesn’t make sense to be apart and there’s certainly zero sense in thinking that if you’re away from me Oberyn will leave me and the Lannisters alone. Together or not, wench, we’re fucked. I’d rather we’re together, wouldn’t you agree?”

As he spoke, he stood in front of her. Brienne let out an annoyed huff and buried her face in her hands. 

“You chose me, you said,” he said, his voice raw and heartbroken. “You promised that this was our fight. Are you breaking your word to me?”  
Her head shot up, eyes blazing at him. “Of course not! Why can’t you see this from my side? This is my fault, Jaime. _My fault!_ I chose you. I will always choose you but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you suffer the repercussions of my actions! These are my mistakes and only I should pay for them!”

“Mistakes?” He whispered.

She trembled. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Really? Because being with you is the only right thing I’ve done after a long time.”

“I don’t think you’re a mistake. You are _not._ ”

He dropped to his knees but grabbed her by the nape as if to force a kiss on her. Instead, he begged, “Then don’t leave me. Don’t you understand, wench? When you’re not with me I feel as if I’m another secret to be hidden. If you leave me I’ll be in the dark again. Are you listening? Do you know now why I don’t want you gone?” His gripped tightened. “I fucking need you, Brienne. _I need you._ ”

His hold softened when she put her hands on his shoulders. “I need you too.”

“Then why are we fighting about this? Why is it every time Oberyn attacks us you immediately think of fleeing?” His tongue swiped at the tremor in her lower lip. “He’s not after you, wench. It’s us. You can’t let him tear us apart.”

She kissed him back. “It hurts.”

“I know, wench.” 

She looked in his eyes. “It hurts me when he hurts you. That I did this--”

Still, he smiled, though ruefully. “I’m strong enough. You needn’t worry about me.”

“Of course I do,” she muttered, turning red. “I love you.”

“Good. Tell me once in a while, will you? It’s nice to be reminded,” he teased her, kissing her around the face, licking her neck.

She closed her eyes as his lips brushed there. “I’m sorry. I just. . .there’s just so much going on.”

“Hmm. I know.”

As he continued to unravel her, break down her defenses with the gentlest, lightest kisses, she opened her eyes and looked at him. “But you tell me you love me every morning.”

“You need reminding.” His voice was a playful but laced with gentle rebuke. “You’re always saying you’re leaving me.”

“Not always.”

“Fine. Not always. But you think it.”

“Because I think that’s how Oberyn will get off us?” Brienne pulled away. “I know you said we’re in this together. I believe that. I really do. But it’s so hard. He’s made it clear he will hurt everyone who’s in the way of getting me back. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Jaime kissed her fully on the mouth before dropping his head on her lap. Biting her lip, she slid her fingers through his thick, silky hair. 

“Jaime, tell me I’m wrong.”

He raised his head but remained kneeling before her. His eyes were bloodshot but there was a tight set to his jaw.

“I’m not going to lie to you.”

She sighed and took his lips in her mouth.

“He can do what he wants, hurt all the people in the world,” he said as they kissed and touched hungrily. “But he’s not getting you back. Swear to me, Brienne.”

“I’m yours.” She gentled her kiss. “And you’re mine.”

She froze, realizing what kind of words she had just said. They weren’t lost on Jaime either. He too seemed to have stopped breathing before he laced his fingers through hers. 

“You mean that?”

She nodded dumbly.

“You’re not just saying that to shut me up?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jaime, there’s no way to shut you up.”

“True. But I wanted to know.”

Still holding her hands, he tugged her toward him until his breath warmed her lips. 

“That clears up some things. A lot of things.” He said. “You remember what Tyrion told me earlier?”

“About your dad, yes. Why is he summoning you? Does he know?” Dread began to fill her belly.

“Definitely. There’s no avoiding him, I’m afraid.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaime.”

“Stop apologizing.” He admonished, shaking her briefly. “But wench, I want to be sure. Are you with me? Really with me?”

There was something in his tone, in his eyes. Something she had not seen before. Brienne asked, “What—“

“Just answer me, Brienne. If next week, tomorrow, whenever, Oberyn tells the world that I fucked Cersei and I have children with her, when he drags us into the shit, will you be with me or force me to have another stupid argument like we just had?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That wasn’t stupid—“

He sighed impatiently. “Just answer. If all that I said happens and worse, are you with me?”

“Yes. I swear it. I won’t leave you. I love you, Jaime.”

He kissed her on the forehead then her left hand. “Yeah. Really clears up important stuff.”

Confused, she demanded, “What are you talking about?”

“When I see Tywin, he’s going to ask about you. He knows about you, he wants to talk to me to confirm what he knows or catch me in a lie. I’m not going to lie, Brienne. He’s going to get it straight from me. He won’t like any of them.” Seeing her wince, he nodded. “I’m telling you this now so you’ll know. So that when we’re in front of Tywin you won’t look like he’s just skinned you alive—like you do now. You can’t let my father see that you’re affected.”

“But—but he only wants to see you, Jaime. Why are you taking me with you?”

“Didn’t you just tell me you’re with me? All the way?”

“Yes I bloody am!” 

He waved away her outburst. “After Tywin has talked to me, he’s going to have you watched and at some point, he’ll just ambush you. I warn you, he’s not going to like you and he’ll make sure to threaten you and make you leave me. Think about leaving me again, Brienne, and you won’t like what I’ll do. I need you. I love you. People will be tearing us apart from all sides. There’s no one fighting on our side. Just us.”

“I still don’t understand—“

“We’ll save Tywin the time and money by taking you with me when I see him this weekend.”

Brienne paled. “What—what do you mean take me—Jaime, you can’t—“

“Oh, yes I am. I’m taking you with me to Casterly Rock. So that Tywin will know you and we’ll be spared of any more nasty surprises.”  
“Of course he’s not going to like me, Jaime. I’m a married woman. Openly cheating on my husband—“

He put a hand on her mouth, silencing her. As her eyes darkened warningly, his remained placid. “For now,” he told her. “We’re going to beat Oberyn and you’ll get the divorce, I swear to you. I have a selfish interest in it, after all.”

He dropped his hand and snorted. “Of course you do.”

He grinned. “Not only in that way, wench.”

She crossed her arms and looked at him. “Oh, really? What other interest may you have regarding my divorce?”

His smiled widened and it infuriated her more. Her head was still reeling from the dictatorial manner he had just laid out the future for them in the next few days. 

“Why, marrying you. I can’t marry you when you’re still Mrs. Martell. Doesn’t mean I can’t ask, though.” He took her left hand and kissed it with surprising chasteness. He adjusted his kneeling position to one knee and looked at her. He was grinning, practically giddy. 

Realizing what was going to happen, she whispered, "Oh, holy fuck." 

Unperturbed, Jaime retorted, “Is that really what you say to the man who's about to ask you to marry him?"


	2. This Is How I See You

At first light on Saturday morning, Jaime raised his head from Brienne’s slick thighs and groaned, knowing there was no delaying the inevitable. They looked at each other, their breaths and the gentle ruffle of her fingers playing with his hair the only sounds in the quiet. He pressed a last kiss on her thatch then straightened up. 

Brienne threw on clothes from the hamper and insisted on walking Jaime out. She offered to make him coffee, make him a sandwich but he kissed her instead, scoffing that there was more than enough food and drink aboard the private Lannister plane taking him to Casterly Rock. He couldn’t stop her from taking the overnight bag he had prepared, insistent as she was on doing something, anything, before he left.  
They spoke in hushed voices on the way down even when they were the only two people in the building. Neither spoke of it but they seemed to have reached a silent agreement to tiptoe around each other ever since the proposal. There was clearly a tension but it was more along the lines of something that was afloat rather than hiding under the surface waiting to explode.

The sun was still rising steadily when they made it to front, holding hands and still speaking softly. The street was empty although some people were awake—there were lights in in a few windows already. The newsstand at the corner was just opening. Jaime used the time to hold Brienne longer and talk some more. 

He wouldn’t deny being hurt about her refusal but she hadn’t shot him down completely. Not yet, a small voice warned him, which he chose to ignore. As wounded as he was, he saw the rationale behind her decision. They had never talked about marriage until that night. It was highly improper to be still a married woman with already another proposal in the bag but that was the least of her concerns. It was the timing—of the proposal, of having to think that far ahead in the future. She admitted that to say yes would be lighting up the dynamite Oberyn was ready to throw at them and honestly, she couldn’t handle the consequences sure to follow. She wanted to say yes knowing there was joy all around instead of that. 

The most important explanation she gave him was she was not refusing for good, only for now. She thought he would be a good husband, and it wouldn’t be a hardship thinking about being married to him after all this. She loved him. As she spoke, he looked in her eyes, clear and guileless and knew she spoke no lie. Still, the stubborn part in him clung to the idea that it would be better if she said yes. How small that part was, Jaime didn’t know, but he was beginning to realize that when it came to Brienne, his feelings and thoughts had to struggle for reason. 

The adrenaline rush that fueled the beginning of their affair had long winded down, leaving in its wake something tangible and true—probably the truest thing he knew in life. His feelings for her was still accompanied by an overwhelming rush of hunger, of need to be with her and touch her. Jaime felt most himself when having sex, and doing it with Brienne was so unbelievably good that it all but completely erased Cersei’s memory. But it was there. He had felt this with Cersei but with Brienne, it was multiplied many times over. It was addicting. It was terrifying.

He couldn’t stop himself from wondering if Oberyn felt this, still felt this way, hence his refusal to let Brienne go. He noticed that wherever Brienne was, she drew people like magnet and they couldn’t get enough of her. It wasn’t because she was vulnerable or weak, but there was something about her that awakened this need in people she met to take care of, fawn over her, love her. Brienne had a quality, he didn’t know if there was even a name for it, that made people better. Unconsciously or not, she helped Jaime have a clearer picture of himself. Being with her made him aware of certain aspects about himself that he wouldn’t have confronted before if she was not in his life.  
Brienne was looking up and down the street, beautiful eyes still drowsy, alert for a cab. Jaime gave in to a small smile that he quickly tucked away when she glanced at him.

“Maybe we should have called a cab company,” she said, frowning at the empty street.

“The thing with having your own air transport is you can leave whenever you want. Damn, wench, I wish you’re coming with me,” he admitted.

“Not now,” she reminded him.

“Yes.” He said very reluctantly. “Not now.”

He let her take him in her strong arms and give him a kiss, sweet and soft. He sighed against her tongue.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll be back by tomorrow night.”

“Still.”

They kissed again, a little roughly this time. Once again Jaime was hit with that hot surge of need to be with her. Gods but he hated having to leave her, not because of what Oberyn might do but he just didn’t want to. He longed for the warmth of their bed, his lips against her shoulder or her hair tickling his nose as they slept. He wanted to be in the kitchen intoxicated by the smells of butter and her soapy scent, dazzled by her eyes and crooked, darling smile. 

They were holding hands when a cab began to drive down the street. Jaime’s arm shot up and the car braked in front of him. Brienne handed him his bag.

“Jaime?” She said, her cheeks suddenly pink. She stared at her feet in flip-flops and he swore to the gods, she couldn’t be any more adorable looking unsure, her sapphire eyes darting to his face then back to the ground. Finally, she looked at him. “I’m sorry I can’t come with you. I really am. I want to be with you.”

“I understand, wench, I swear,” he reassured her, cradling her hot cheek. 

She bit her kiss-swollen lip and nodded. 

“Next time,” he added.

“Yeah. Hopefully not too long.” Her cheeks pinked even more.

He grinned. “Is that a promise?”

She frowned but only to stop the smile spreading across her face. She shoved at him and he laughed. “Go. You’ll miss your plane.”

 

Brienne crawled back to bed after Jaime left and slept for another couple of hours. When she woke up, she was hugging Jaime’s pillow. She sniffed, thinking how ridiculous it was to be this sad when he would be back soon. 

She lay on her back, still holding the pillow dusted with the spicy scent of his aftershave and personal musk. How many days had begun like this, Oberyn gone, leaving her with either a note or a kiss on the forehead she was too sleepy to remember? The quiet that settled in their house was like a clinging spectre. 

No spectre this time. Only a hollowed heart. A loneliness.

Jaime had left for trips before, trips that were sometimes longer than this one but she hadn’t felt anything like this. Maybe because she was still with Oberyn although in her heart and mind, she was far from him already. She had gotten so used to having Jaime around that his absence was so unfamiliar, a stranger she had let in the house. 

She took a shower then went to the kitchen in search of breakfast. There was leftover Chinese from last night so she put that in the microwave. There was a box of Pop Tarts in the cupboard so she put a couple in the toaster as she was suddenly craving something incredibly sweet. She wolfed it all down sitting at the counter, her back turned away from the small dining table where they ate.  
Her day was full. She did the laundry, sniffing longingly at the collars of Jaime’s shirts, making a face when she felt his boxers and found the cloth stiff and stained. She changed their sex-stained sheets with new, crisp ones, a bold cranberry. As the clothes and the sheets spun in the dryer afterward, she vacuumed the apartment, cleaned out old and spoiled food from the fridge. She gagged at the pack of broccoli gone bad, widened her eyes when she saw a jar of mayonnaise with an expiration date from three years ago. 

They had been living together for a month and a couple of weeks. In the flurry of moving her things and incorporating what she liked with his taste, the heady rush that drove them to fuck all over the apartment, she hadn’t really explored or looked in the nooks and crannies. After cleaning up, she sorted their closet next. Here, Jaime kept things relatively neat. She debated between arranging clothes by colour or leaving them alone, as it was done in her part of the closet. The first choice won.

In the afternoon, she treated herself to lunch in a café. It had been a while since she’d done something like this by herself. It reminded her of freedom, and if Oberyn was following her, he could damn well sit in some car and just watch her attack eggplant parmigiana and garlic bread, request a refill of the wine. She did miss Jaime while eating. He loved watching her eat, the careful way she sliced portions for herself, putting them in her mouth and her eyes falling closed as layers of flavours spread across her tongue and gradually filled her mouth. Oberyn tend to be business-like in that he didn’t understand the idea of a two-hour lunch, or lingering over wine. He ate light and frowned when she ordered something hearty. 

Brienne went to the museum, bought thea new scarf and earrings. She walked past a jewelry store and paused before the display of rings in the window. 

She was probably a fool for refusing Jaime’s proposal but marriage wasn’t something they had really talked about. They had known each other for a couple of years, forging and building a friendship first before plunging into the affair. They loved each other, that was without question. But marriage, even to Jaime, was an idea she couldn’t entertain right now. She could see that for them someday but it didn’t mean he had to ask her now, that she had to think about that future now. It was days since he had shocked her but she was still reeling from it. She wondered if Oberyn’s surprise attacks had steeled her somehow, or messed with her head bad as she was now more anxious with Jaime planting the idea of marriage rather than some nastiness her soon-to-be-ex-husband was thinking to hurl at them.

As the day drew to a close, Brienne went to the grocery store. Maybe because she was hungry she loaded up on steaks, thick, juicy slabs of beef. The vegetables were an afterthought—surprising because she couldn’t summon her usual enthusiasm over them at the moment, it seemed to channeled to meat. She was lining up to pay when her phone rang. She frowned at the name flashing on her phone, wondering why he would be calling. 

“Tyrion?” She asked.

“Glad to have caught you right away. We have to talk. Where are you?”

“Groceries but I’m just about to pay.”

“That’s good. Listen, can we meet at your place?” There was a massive thrill in Tyrion referring to their apartment as theirs instead of just Jaime’s. “I found something. Oberyn’s about to cry for his mommy.”

Brienne caught her breath. “Really? Is it good?”

“Better than you think.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in an hour. You know, have dinner with me as well, if you don’t have plans. I got steaks.”

“Excellent. No wonder my brother’s flipped. An hour then.”

 

Out of clean clothes and desperate for home cooking, Sansa Stark arrived at her parents’ just as they were sitting down for dinner. Ned and Catelyn’s surprised but pleased smiles drowned at her apologies for just barging in. Catelyn cupped Sansa’s smooth cheek, seeing a mirror, younger version of herself. But it was in Ned’s arms that Sansa lingered, nuzzling her nose in the familiar warmth of his chest and joking that she could still smell the grilled cheese steak sandwiches he was fond of having for lunch. 

“Where are Bran and Rickon?” Sansa asked as she sat down. Ned poured wine into her glass and it made her feel grown-up though she was already on final year of law school and taking the bar in a few months.

There were five Stark children. The eldest was Robb, who worked for a political think tank. Sansa was the second. Arya was in Braavos for her Master’s. Bran was on his last year of high school while Rickon was still in middle school. 

“Bran’s out with his girlfriend, Rickon’s at a sleepover,” Catelyn replied, putting vegetables on Sansa’s plate. “How are you, dear?”

"I need food that takes more than hot water to cook,” Sansa admitted, pulling a laugh from her parents. “Seriously, I’m having a hard time remembering when I last plate from an actual plate and not a carton or plastic cup.”

“How are things over at Royce, Waynwood & Associates?” Ned asked, serving her a piece of chicken breast before resuming his meal. Sansa was an intern there and hoped to get an invitation to join their law firm after graduation.

“Things are great,” she said and told them about being brought to court so she could observe proceedings and had also helped in drafting arguments. Much of her work involved research so she now knew her way around the library. It made her more excited to do actual lawyering. 

“Your father and I were just talking about Brienne,” Catelyn said. “I told you she’s divorcing Oberyn, right?”

“Yeah. How’s that coming?” Sansa loved Brienne. She admired Brienne’s dedication to her job. Brienne had been the one of the people to write her a letter of recommendation for law school. 

Ned sighed and reached for Catelyn’s hand.

Sansa was close to Brienne but her husband Oberyn was another matter. She met the guy only once or twice because he was often away. He didn’t make much of an impression with her but Brienne looked happy and clearly loved him—she had a shine in her too-expressive eyes when he was around. He was her first love—first everything, and while Sansa thought that sweet, she did think Brienne was short-changed. But every person was different. Brienne was more of the one-and-done sort while Sansa believed in enjoying as much as herself as she can, figuring out and testing what she liked before settling with someone who got her—but not for a while. 

She knew Brienne was quiet and soft-spoken, still shy. Sansa was surprised she was the one divorcing Oberyn, not the other way around. But her parents surprised her even more about Oberyn’s resistance to the divorce. So he must love her, she thought, chewing on her food thoughtfully. 

Ned didn’t go into the details of how ugly it was becoming but he did share that Oberyn had managed to avoid getting served. They couldn’t proceed with anything unless he got them. At this, Sansa perked up.

“Why don’t I do it?”

Ned frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He clearly expects how you’ll be bringing him the papers that’s why he’s avoided them. You have to give it to him when he doesn’t expect it. And believe me, it’s not at work, not at home.”

“I don’t know, Sansa. I would rather we do it through the proper channels.”

“Unless he’s coerced or threatened with his life, all other ways of serving him with the papers are legal.” Sansa pointed out. “I’ve done it for the firm a few times.” Once, as a waitress, when the defendant in question was having his lunch at a hotel, and another time when she passed herself off as a giddy college coed to a sleazeball of a professor getting sued for sexual harassment. She wasn’t going to tell her parents that—those at the firm didn’t know the exact nature that she delivered the papers but the job was done, slam-dunk.

“I don’t like you within twenty feet of Oberyn,” Ned said.

“He doesn’t know me. He’s seen me a total of two times, the last time four years ago. Come on, Dad, let me try,” she cajoled him. “I don’t have to be back in school until Wednesday.”

Now Catelyn frowned. “You don’t have school for two days?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’m skipping. But in my defense, I’ve turned in papers for all the classes in spite of my work at the firm. I’m tired. I need to recharge. Pretty please, Dad? I only have to try.”

Ned and Catelyn looked at each other. “We’ll see.”

 

 

The kitchen was rich with the aroma of spices when Tyrion arrived. He sniffed appreciatively as he followed Brienne into the kitchen.  
He had to smile at the step bench she had thoughtfully placed by the entrance of the kitchen, leaving it up to him to drag it toward the counter so he could put himself on a higher stool. He thanked her as she poured him wine, noting that her ears were pink. Then she asked him if it was alright if she prepared the salad while they talked, and she was going to use her bare hands because it was easier to toss it that way.

“Go ahead,” he told her.

It didn’t escape his notice that this was the first time they were alone with each other. Jaime was always buffer between them, the bridge, their centre. Or they were surrounded by other people and just interacted for a few minutes. Brienne was nervous, evidenced by how red she was getting by the minute. Tyrion liked salads enough but he didn’t think anyone was as focused or intense in their preparation as his brother’s girlfriend. He wanted to laugh but thought that despite being much larger than him, he would scare her off.

Intriguing, he thought, and decided this was probably why Jaime was crazy in love with the blonde giantess. She was beautiful only in the eyes but the rest of her features were harsh and her body didn’t belong on a centerfold spread. Tyrion was a man, he couldn’t help giving her a close scrutiny. He recognized the green plaid shirt she was wearing as Jaime’s, just as easily as he detected that she was braless under her tank top. She wore leggings that emphasized the bunched muscles of her thighs and legs rather than curves—her butt was flat and her hips wide but could hardly be described as womanly. There was a brokenness about her despite the evident strength in her body. Her eyes betrayed this and this was what probably Jaime responded to and drew him in. His brother had a penchant for people wounded deep and with broken wings—even Cersei could be classified as such. But she was more of a pitless black hole, hollow and nothing, rather than actually damaged.

“That’s a delicious smell. I don’t recognize it, though,” he told Brienne as he set his satchel on the table. The briefcase he usually toted clashed with his hoodie and jeans. 

“I marinated the steak in beer. Is that alright?” Brienne asked, flushing again as she looked up at him briefly before returning her studious attention to the salad she was making.

Tyrion grinned in approval.“Very much. Your own recipe?”

She nodded then scratched her head. “I’m sorry, you eat meat, right? I mean, I don’t know if you’re vegetarian or vegan.” They hadn’t had a meal together, Tyrion realized.

“Don’t think so lowly of me, Brienne. I don’t believe in depriving myself of life’s pleasures,” he answered kindly and got a small smile from her before she ducked her head again.

Gods, Jaime. This must be it. You like them demure, practically maidenly. You did a hundred eighty from Cersei, alright. That explained a lot: Jaime’s near-feral protectiveness of her. His brother wore that idiotic, glazed-eyed expression a lot too. An idiot head over heels in love, indeed. He wondered how Jaime had pressed Brienne into moving in with him. He could be persistent to the point of obnoxious. She seemed the sort to just be railroaded if only to shut him up. At that moment, Tyrion felt a rush of respect for Brienne. Jaime was a difficult person to get along with, too sarcastic, always mocking, his wit and humour sharp and biting. 

“I have good news. Well, I think it is,” he told her after a moment. Brienne finished mixing the greens and washed her hands. As she wiped them dry, he pulled out some papers from the bag.

The extent to which Oberyn would sink to drove Brienne to hire Tyrion to do some digging around. Tyrion always believed in following the money. Most people had very little patience in dealing with finances and just hired people to file papers for them, ensured they were paying as they should and not getting ripped off. He, on the other hand, liked numbers. He had infinite patience going over financial spreadsheets and had a bloodhound’s instincts for detecting bullshit. It was an axiom that proved very true for the job Brienne hired him for. 

“You told me you share an accountant with your husband but that he does more for him than you?” Tryion said putting his pudgy hands on the folder. 

“Yeah. We have Petyr help and advise us with investments we make with our joint accounts but we also have separate accounts. Petyr does the computing for me but I file the papers myself.” She shrugged and checked on the steaks grilling. She turned them deftly and the delicious aroma sharpened. “I do some double-checking. Petry’s good but I’m just crazy that way.”

“On your end, you don’t have a problem. You’re straight as an arrow as far as money and taxes are concerned,” Tyrion said. “But Petyr Baelish. And Oberyn. I found something interesting.”

Brienne’s pale brows furrowed. “Interesting just interesting or interesting really good?”

“Of course it’s really good. I’m worth every penny you paid for,” Tyrion said, affecting defensiveness. He opened the folder and gestured her to come around the counter. “Come here. I’ll explain some things. I warn you that you’d better have a strong stomach for this, Brienne, because we’re about to extract at least a pound of flesh.” He spread the papers and smirked. “Get ready to do some disembowelment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to Tyrion and Brienne's interaction and I'm soo glad it's finally written and up! There won't be much Jaime and Brienne interaction here as they need some breathing room from what's happened in previous chapters. So we'll be seeing them through the eyes of other characters.
> 
> I apologize in advance but Cersei's showing up in a bit. 
> 
> Don't hate me.


	3. Her

Jaime hated Casterly Rock.

The grandeur, the sweeping gardens, the expensive touches and priceless pieces of art and antiques on ever surface inch was everything he couldn’t stand. Being from a rich family, he understood that if you earned your money, you had the right to enjoy it. Enjoyment for him meant trips, expensive cars. Not gold doorknobs, silk-upholstered sofas, not commissioned portraits. Or liveried servants leading him up the path to his old bedroom as if he were a stranger. Jaime was sorry for rudely brushing aside the offer to hang up his clothes, though. He did have to resist rolling his eyes when informed that Tywin would see him at supper so he had the entire day to rest up. 

Rest up, indeed. He could just imagine just how Tywin intended to bloody him up given what he knew about Brienne. His father always found out. That’s why he never lied. Better to admit to the truth instead of being caught in Tywin’s web and paying dearly. Tywin Lannister saw no distinction between employees and family when it came to suffering. Just as he spread the smear campaign about Rayne Company using child labour, so did he destroy Tyrion’s college romance with a shopgirl named Tysha. When Tyrion refused to end things with her, Tywin uncovered her family’s criminal past, forcing them to relocate on the other side of the world. Tysha’s mother killed herself and she cut off all contact with Tyrion.

Jaime didn’t rest up but instead emailed clients and checked on things in the shop via calls. He saw Brienne was online but resisted from sending her anything. They would be separated for only a little more than twenty-four hours so it was silly to complain to her and lament how much he missed her. The gods knew they had been separated longer before but he never felt like this.

Another servant went to Jaime’s room at quarter to eight to inform him that supper was ready. He frowned at Jaime’s white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, dark jeans and sockless feet in loafers. Jaime relished showing up dressed so casually. Tywin was sure to be ready to kill him so he didn’t see the point of delaying his ire.

As he walked after the servant, his unease being in Casterly Rock grew. He had not returned for close to nine years, not since things ended between him and Cersei and he cut off ties with the rest of the family, except for Tyrion. Walls and rooms still held memories of their illicit encounters, his bedroom unchanged. Everything about Casterly Rock reminded him of things he regretted, things that told him how unworthy he was of Brienne.

The formal dining room boasted of a long table that sat twenty. Tywin was standing at the head of the table, looking no different from the last time Jaime saw him except for more lines around his face. He kept his spine straight and proud as his father’s icy green eyes bored disapprovingly on his clothes. Tywin was wearing a suit. But Jaime smiled upon seeing his father wasn’t alone.

“Uncle Gerion,” he said, going to his uncle with a hand extended for a handshake.

“Jaime Lannister,” Gerion said, smiling at him warmly before they hugged. “Didn’t think I’d see you back here, boy.”

“I was summoned,” Jaime muttered but Tywin still overheard.

His displeasure grew with every inch of Jaime’s person his eyes fell on. “Do you need more time to get ready?” He inquired.

“No, I don’t. I’m starving.” 

“So formal, my big brother,” Gerion said, shaking his head at Tywin before going around to sit on the other side. He was dressed in a suit but had skipped the tie. “It’s just us, and you’ve already impressed us. Let’s sit down, shall we?”

Tywin shot his brother a narrowed-eye glance but Gerion went on as he suggested. Jaime followed suit. There was no love lost between the brothers. Tywin was the head of the family because he was the eldest but it was a role that Gerion had taken him from with very little effort on more than one occasion. Jaime knew that what annoyed his father even more was it was done unconsciously. Gerion himself had declared he was no leader, and he had no part in the family business except for the yearly stockholders’ meeting and reassuring their investors. People would still follow him. He joked it was due to his godly looks but Jaime knew he inspired that trust and respect form people easily. Out of all the Lannisters, Gerion was the only one known to laugh and not take the family and their reputation seriously. 

Uncle and nephew looked at Tywin expectantly. He stared at Jaime, looking at him with both disappointment and contempt before he sat down. 

“I was told you intend to leave tomorrow. You won’t be spending the weekend here?” Tywin asked as the servants served them with the first course. Swordfish with cherry tomatoes and onions in aromatic sauce. Wine was poured into his glass but Jaime held up his hand to stop the servant from filling his. Gerion murmured his thanks as his goblet was filled.

“I have things to do. I was just barely able to squeeze in your summons,” Jaime replied.

“Summons,” Gerion echoed, chuckling. “By the gods, Tywin, you have to work on your communication. You can summon servants, send a memo to your employees. But your son you have to invite, come on.” 

“Jaime doesn’t need an invitation. He is always welcome at the Rock.”

“Only me, though, right, Father?” Jaime said dryly.

“This is a Lannister stronghold, after all,” Tywin said. “We don’t just let anyone in.”

Gerion looked at Tywin as if he had sprung another head and said to Jaime, “Forgive my brother, Jaime. He’s quite the big snob.”  
“You should think about the company you keep as well,” Tywin snapped. “I don’t work hard so you can drown your latest girlfriend in diamonds. What is it this time, an actress?”

“An actor,” Gerion emphasized, refusing to be baited. “Her name is Cecilia and she graduated from Julliard. And she’s not really fond of diamonds. Just shoes.”

“I suppose with every woman there’s a different baggage,” Tywin mused.

The barb was not lost on Jaime but kept his cool. “I would hardly call a shoe obsession baggage.”

“You wouldn’t. Yours is an entirely different baggage.”

Gerion, realizing what Tywin was doing, spoke up, “Hey, now, this is the first time in years Jaime’s home, Tywin. Can’t the lad enjoy his food first before you tear him apart for his choices?”

“Oh, what choices has put me at your mercy, I wonder,” Jaime bit out sarcastically. “Is it because I let my license expire, or I set out to be my own man? That I’m living with a married woman, maybe?”

“Jaime,” Gerion cautioned.

“You appear proud of that,” Tywin remarked, ignoring his brother. 

“Of course I am. I travel and I earn my own money,” Jaime retorted.

Annoyed that he was being deliberately misunderstood, Tywin said it: “Brienne Martell.”

“Wonderfully tall girl,” Gerion said, raising a glass at Jaime. “And such eyes.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” To Tywin, Jaime said, “She’s actually Brienne Tarth-Martell. Her surname is a hyphenate.”

“I don’t care if she’s got Targeryen blood,” Tywin snapped. “Your relationship is causing embarrassment to the family. I had to know about that incident at Castle Black from Walder Frey of all people. Imagine how I haven’t seen my son in nearly a decade. My son who’s dropped off the face of the earth where his family is concerned. Then the first thing I hear is you’re shagged up with some married woman and getting into fights with her husband.” To Gerion, he sneered, “More was expected from you.”

“Martell was besmirching your son’s name and attacking the lady. You really think I should just step aside while that’s happening?” Gerion demanded.

Tywin turned to Jaime. “Do you get some sick thrill out of embarrassing me? Bad enough that everyone knew that you walked away from the company? You had to let the world know you’re having an affair with a married woman?”

Jaime looked at him right in the eye. “Brienne and I are not having an affair.”

“What are you, then? Friends who share the same bed?”

“We’re getting married.”

It was a lie but Jaime quickly caught on with what Tywin intended to do. He was going to bloody Brienne’s name, insult her and provoke him. He could play this game. He might even be better.

“That better be a jest, Jaime,” Tywin said slowly, enunciating each word like a knife. Gerion looked shocked too but wisely kept quiet.

“She’s getting a divorce and once that’s done we’re getting married. What’s the problem with that?” Jaime demanded. “Do you have a problem with us?”

“Yes, because you are dragging the Lannister name in to the mud. A name that I gave my life to regaining its respect and honour. You don’t know the damage your grandfather did to us. We were laughingstocks, people had dismissed us as if we’re nothing. I bled for the family to return their place to the top and you thank me by turning away from the life I built for you. You embarrass the family with this affair.”

“But I haven’t been part of this family for nearly ten years,” Jaime pointed out. “Why are my actions of such concern to you? I don’t get anything from you.”

“That was your choice.”

“And so is Brienne.”

The two men stared at each other like two alphas. Gerion shot Jaime a worried look then a wary one at Tywin.

“Tywin, Jaime is a grown man earning his own money. His choice is a trifle unexpected—“

“Unexpected, “ Tywin scoffed. “How tactful of you.”

Brienne was not attractive in any sense, even Jaime could see that, but he’d had great beauty. Cersei’s hypnotic beauty was a mask, nothing more. Brienne’s beauty was in her eyes, in her honesty, her strength and the way she loved. It was in her bloody sense of honour that drove her to get between him and Oberyn’s wrath. 

“Brienne has more honour in her than all the money you have in banks,” Jaime said quietly. 

“What an interesting choice of words,” Tywin said with infuriating blandness. “An honourable woman, is she, when she’s broken her vows to her husband and openly living with another man.”

Gerion glared at Twin while Jaime, fighting for calm, set aside his fork and knife. 

“If you had summoned me here to insult the woman I love, don’t expect me to linger in your company any longer. In fact,” he said, pushing his chair back, “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Do not leave,” Tywin ordered him. “Not until I say so.”

“You’re a fool if you expect me to be quiet while you slice Briene into shreds. At least fight fair. Have here. Let her speak for herself. But she’s never going to set foot here. I love her and I’d protect her even from the man that I’m ashamed to call my father.”

So Jaime stood up and turned away. 

A chair scraped back harshly. “Jaime don’t do this,” Gerion was practically pleading. He paused halfway out of the dining room. Slowly, he turned around to look at him then Tywin.

“Let him be,” Tywin said with a sharp motion of his hand. “He has no part in my legacy.”

“It’s very important to you, isn’t it? Legacy. It’s just a fancy name to cover up what you always do, Father. You’re bully. If we don’t do as you demand, you make us pay for it, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But it’s always worked, right? Look at Tyrion. He loved Tysha. You indirectly caused her mother’s suicide. Bravo. Yet my brother continues to work with you. He’s seen you for the monster you are so rather than have a life of his own, which he has every right to, he’s at your side. Loathing you but knowing that if he does it again it’s going to much worse. If you intend to wish Brienne and I your very warm regards, I’d like you to think about how I will respond. You dig up things about people, well, I know things about our family.”

Gerion stilled. “Jaime. Stop it. Now.” 

But Tywin chuckled. “Tell the world I’m a bad father? Go ahead. Tell them I disowned you? Go ahead. You don’t matter enough to destroy me. You have nothing.”

“I don’t have a lot of ammunition but I only need a single shot and make it good.”

“You read too many books that you’ve begun speaking in riddles.”

“It’s no riddle. Cersei can give the answer.”

“Your aunt? She knows something?” Tywin scoffed. “That’s unprecedented.”

“Ask her about the father of her children.”

Jaime smirked at the obvious confusion on Tywin’s face. He nodded at Gerion, who looked at him gravely. “Always a memorable stay here in Casterly Rock. I’ll remember so I won’t come back.”

Then he turned on his heel and left. 

 

This was madness, Oberyn thought as he stumbled in the dark and straight into soft arms and a heady, spicy fragrance. Not once had he done this, was never tempted, but there was always the first time for everything. He laughed as he fell first on the couch, the woman giggling as she topped right on top of him. They grabbed each other and resumed kissing.

“Bed’s better, sweetness,” he said between kisses, dragging the strap of a slinky dress down a slim shoulder. 

“No. Here’s good,” the woman panted. He grinned at her impatience as she lowered her dress and revealed the lacy demi-cups of a black bra. Fucking hell yes, he thought, pushing her so she was under him.

“Gods, fuck. This is good,” the woman moaned as Oberyn tugged the rest of her dress off. She yanked his head down and shoved her tongue in his mouth. She tasted of raspberries and vodka, of recklessness and sex. Sex. _It had been so long._

With nothing to go on to give Brienne hell, Oberyn had gone to a popular bar for a drink and to clear his head. That was the plan. But the woman he was making out with sat down next to him and he nearly fell off the chair thinking she was Brienne. Pale blonde, blue eyes, pale skin, long legs. 

But her hair brushed her shoulders instead of the cropped style his wife favoured. Her eyes were light blue instead of vivid sapphires. She was young, in her mid-twenties to late twenties probably. She wore a dress that was too revealing and while on Brienne it would look wrong, on her it looked right. Oberyn rubbed his cheeks against the lace of her bra, loving the contrast of textures between it and her silk, soft, very soft skin. Her breasts were full and would make a nice pillow. Gods, she was nothing like Brienne at all and he never thought that could be a good thing. 

“What’s your name again?” Oberyn gasped as she tore his shirt open and raked her nails down his chest. “Fuuuuck!”

“Does it matter?” She said, straddling him. 

“No,” he admitted and they were kissing again. She giggled as he cupped her bottom and rubbed his erection at the warm juncture between her thighs.

“Easy there, cowboy,” she said, pulling slightly away. She reached for the lamp at the table and Oberyn grinned at her flushed cheeks, the naughty smile on her face. Her tits looked so much better in the light. Acres of umblemished pale skin .Nothing like Brienne at all. “We’ve got all night.”

“You have a condom?” He asked.

She smirked. “Of course I do.” 

She planted her palms on his chest and heaved up, swinging one leg over him as she reached for her purse on the floor. As she bent, Oberyn sat up and started playfully biting the back of her thighs, tugging at the band of her thong. He sat back as she scolded him playfully. He laughed and got rid of his pants. Then he grabbed her again, licking and nipping the back of her soft, slim thighs again. She muttered something about, “Men,” then turned around. He started pulling her underwear down but she suddenly smacked his hand.

“You’re a spitfire, aren’t you,” Oberyn teased, delighted. He stretched out on the couch, grinning at her. He held out his hand. “Hand it over, sweetness.”

The woman smirked again, tugged his hand sharply that he was yanked to a sitting position. He was laughing again when she suddenly pressed sheets of paper on his hand. Drunk, Oberyn’s laugh transformed into a fit of guffaws. “What’s this?”

“Oberyn Martell,” Sansa Stark said, pulling off her blond wig and revealing rich, auburn hair. “You’ve been served.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things turn around a bit for our favourite unicorns but boy, am I nervous for what Jaime just threatened to do.   
> ____  
> Let's assume Sansa convinced Ned, alright?


	4. Push Me and I'll Roar

It took Tyrion an hour to walk Brienne through the tax system. Though she was familiar due to her work as associate curator in the museum and thus dealt with accounts and finances, the process of formula, computation and filing was complicated and she had to ask him for clarification several times. More than once he had to review a previous concept with her so she would remember and understand. They went through half a bottle of wine before the steaks were done. By the time they finished eating, they had gone through another bottle. Wine didn’t affect Brienne but she had never drunk so much in one night, nor had to process this much information. There also went the inner turmoil of realizing the power she held in her hands. It made her stomach tangle in knots and churn. 

She was lying on the couch, a little dizzy but still quite clear-headed as she and Tyrion continued talking. Despite his size, Tyrion appeared unaffected. He sat on the armchair across from her, looked at her curiously then got up. Then he returned a moment later with a tall glass of water.

“You didn’t have to drink with me,” he chided her gently as she groaned and sat up to take it.

“I’m not like this at all,” she reasoned, taking big gulps. Her throat was parched. “I’ve just been so tired lately but I haven’t been sleeping well. Which also means headaches. Don’t tell Jaime.” She suddenly begged, startling Tyrion. Red from the alcohol, she flushed even more. “I sneeze and he thinks I’m coming down with the cold. I feel just slightly chilly he thinks I have fever. Is he really like that?”

Tyrion’s smile was gentle. “Only with you.”

“Drat.” She handed him the glass but instead of Tyrion just putting it away, he returned to the kitchen and filled it up again. Brienne chuckled and thanked him again when he held out the glass to her. 

“Jaime is protective,” Tyrion said as she sipped carefully this time. “When our mother died, he was the one who prepared my lunch. We had an army of servants but our mother did it for me. Jaime just took over. Said he didn’t trust any of the help to make sure I had actual food in the bag instead of potato chips.” 

Then Brienne remembered that Jaime would pack her a sandwich for lunch sometimes. She protested that she wasn’t a child and he argued he wasn’t going to do it daily, just that no matter how healthy restaurants claimed to be their food always had too much salt and oil. “You’re not going to have clogged arteries and high blood pressure before you’re forty, wench,” he had declared. Knowing that this concern was inherent in Jaime made her warm and more fuzzy-headed. 

“Still,” Tyrion said, “You have to take care of yourself, Brienne. I have to admit watching you put away that much steak is really sexy to watch. I felt like we’re cheating on Jaime,” he added, winking at her. Brienne blushed harder.

“Sorry. I was starving. I’ve been eating on off hours.” She put away the glass and Tyrion headed back to his seat. As he sat down, she said, “Can I confess something, Tyrion?”

“This isn’t like something I have to keep Jaime in the dark about, is it?”

“Well. . .” Brienne dropped her eyes then shrugged. “It’s just that. . .this divorce. I didn’t think it could get this ugly. And you know what? I don’t think this is what’s truly ugly yet.”

“But for the first time we have something,” Tyrion reminded her. 

Though her brain was muddled, she was surprised at his word choice. Tyrion was always been civil to her and early in her friendship with Jaime, he was warm and friendly. That turned into a cool, detached interaction with her when they started having an affair. Brienne didn’t blame him. If Jaime were here brother and he was going around with a married woman, no matter how sincerely the woman loved him, she wouldn’t be inviting her to shopping trips or bonding either. 

“You really think I should report it? I mean, how’s it going to look? I’m divorcing him. Isn’t it going to look like I’m leaving him to cover my ass? Because I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I can report him, if you like. I have an ethical obligation to. You hired me to get answers and we did, exactly what we needed.” Tyrion’s mismatched eyes were strangely gentle as they regarded her. “All I need is a yes from you, Brienne.”

She sighed and returned her head on the pillow. “I don’t know.”

“Now isn’t the time to play nice,” he admonished.

“I’m not! It’s just. . .what if it’s an honest mistake? What if it was Petyr who fucked up?”

“But he didn’t. He had clearly manipulated the calculations and helped Oberyn avoid some pretty important taxes. Taxes that he should be paying.” Tyrion continued to look at her curiously. “How is it that you can still worry about the man who’s been hurting you?”

Brienne shifted on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

“He loved me. I loved him. I know it’s over between us but I’m an idiot for believing the man I fell in love with is still there.” 

With Jaime was a love she didn’t think was every possible. It transcended all notions of love, all poetry and songs, stories written about it. It was best described through moments that were the complete opposite of grandiose demonstrations in movies: Jaime snoring in her ear, the deep, dramatic breath he took before he sampled the avocado toast she loved before gagging, when he did the dishes, or how he swung by the cleaners for her suits, the bamboozled look on his face when he opened his medicine cabinet and found her box of tampons there, deodorant, wax strips mixed with his aftershave, deodorant, razor before he gave her resigned but warm smile. There was no one feeling that could encompass how this love was. Sometimes it was the shiver of anticipation up her spine when he looked at her. Sometimes it was the certainty of knowing that after a bad day, he was there and he’d make her noodles. Even the annoyance she felt when he raided her own collection of socks because he was too lazy to wash his own—it was love.

One word could sum up the love she had with Oberyn: obsession. When he got his own apartment after graduation, she spent more time there than anywhere else, including school. Instead of hitting the books, she was fucking Oberyn. “My wanton baby virgin,” he liked to tease her, panting against her mouth as his cock plundered mercilessly in her womb, grinning at her throaty moans. There were days when she skipped classes and was just fucking him, with only bathroom breaks and cat naps in between bouts. She would go to class still smelling of sex, feeling like she had made a mistake. _Why_ would she want to know about the histories of dead men and women when Oberyn’s stories were far more interesting, why should she think about dead philosophers when she could learn more about the man she loved? Oberyn was her world, her everything. _Why did they have to be apart?_ But the separation, he claimed, made the anticipation for the next fuck hotter. And it was. It pleased her to please him. She made it her mission to know everything there was about him and to engrave them in her mind, her heart. 

Even when she felt ridiculous in them, she wore, first, the cheap, slippery nightgowns he bought during those early days because he liked her in them. As Oberyn steadily climbed up the ladder of success, the lingerie got more luxurious, smaller and more expensive. Brienne didn’t wear bras because her breasts were too small but he liked them, loved it especially when she put on a push-up and had temporary cleavage. When they experienced the first modicum of comfort due to his professional advancement, she accepted the gradual lifestyle changes he required: organic gourmet food only, none of the mass-produced shit that had more chemicals than real food, designer clothes, designer everything, even the hand towels, nights at the symphony, not rock concerts, dresses and slacks, no denims of any kind. She turned herself inside-out so many times she didn’t know who she was anymore. When Oberyn started being away often, there were so many moments when she was left to herself, when she had no idea what to do because he had programmed her, it felt, to only be alive when he was around. Bit by bit, the obsession ebbed away. 

Oberyn would return from another trip and Brienne could tell that even he was puzzled when she went ‘off book.’ She read the question in his eyes, could hear the wheels in his brain turning as he worked out how she could do something that hadn’t been his idea. They would get into really ridiculous arguments, for example, halting halfway through a fuck because he discovered she was wearing boy shorts instead of a thong. It was horrifying realizing that her underwear of choice, _her body, her mind _had become a battleground. That in their relationship, many of her choices were Oberyn’s.__

Jaime let her be. It wasn’t that he was one hundred percent pleased with her all the time. He just never made any attempt to control her. He accepted and loved her for what she was, even on weekends when she was too lazy to shower. She knew things about him she’d rather not know about yet here she was, with him, unable to fathom just the very idea of a world without him in her life. They argued, there were moments when they did find each other fascinating balanced with those they could care less about. She had come to realize that no matter what, she would choose Jaime. That was more than romantic. Beyond love and anything else she knew at this point in her life. 

"You’re a good person, Brienne. It’s going to bite you in the ass someday.” Tyrion was straight to the point.

“I’m not a good person.” She disagreed. “I’m married and not only am I fucking your brother, I live with him too. How are you so. . .nonchalant? You didn’t react when Jaime said we’re living together and you have not asked me once about how it came to be. Are you quiet because you think I’m a good person for Jaime or you’ve given up?”

“What would I give up on? And why?”

“Us. You’re resigned that you can’t stop Jaime.”

Tyrion looked confused. “Why would I stop Jaime? It’s not everyone’s dream. I wish you’re not married but. . .he’s happy with you. I don’t agree with Jaime’s choices all the time but if they bring him happiness and will not hurt him, why would I get in the way?”

Quietly, she asked, “What if he gets hurt because of me?”

Tyrion didn’t answer.

“I would never intentionally. I want you to know that. But what if because of me. . .What if I cause it?”

“That’s why you should stop doing Oberyn favours. He’s not that man anymore, Brienne. Look at what he’s done to you and Jaime since this affair began. Think what else he will do. Your sentimentality is what will hurt you and Jaime.” When Brienne started to protest, he pushed on. “Forgive my being blunt. But if you won’t pull the trigger, I am. You seem to care for Jaime. But if you don’t hit Oberyn right where it hurts, when you have every right to, I’m going to think you don’t care for him as much as you think you do. So what is it, Brienne Tarth-Martell?”

She winced. “Please don’t call me that.”

“So what now?”

“You said you’ll do it if I don’t. Why are you still asking me?”

“I think you have to be prompted.” Tyrion said. “You still cling to this naïve, idiotic idea on the possibility that you’ll get through this unscathed. Well you’re not. Your husband is the very obstacle. People have been hurt already but not the one who deserves it. You can’t win this through civility and decency. This is not just your divorce you’re fighting for. It’s yours and Jaime’s life. If Oberyn fights dirty then be _fucking dirtier._ If he won’t do this with honour then you give him more than Seven Hells.”

Brienne, annoyed now that Tyrion was slapping her right in the face with her apparent disloyalty and lack of commitment to Jaime, got even more when someone rang the buzzer downstairs. She sat up too quickly and groaned when the room tilted sharply. Tyrion took the step stool and dragged it to the door. Staggering to her feet, she glanced at her watch. It was almost midnight.

Tyrion pressed the button of the speaker. “Who is it?”

“What are you doing there?” Sneered Cersei Lannister.

Brienne froze, her eyes getting huge. “What is she doing here?” 

__Tyrion scratched his head. “Jaime doesn’t want you here. You know that.”__

"Then tell him to come outside and talk to me,” Cersei ordered.

“He’s not here. He’s with your brother.”

Suddenly, Cersei screeched, _“He’s with Tywin?”_

Tyrion glanced at Brienne as she lumbered unsteadily toward the door. She toggled the button none too gently. “Will you stop, stop, for the love of the Seven, harassing Jaime?”

"I’m not talking to you, you beast!”

“It’s fucking midnight and you’re at my door disturbing me! Get away from there!”

“Oh, you think you can just order me around? Feeling like a Lannister already, aren’t you? Listen, Jaime will never marry you. Tywin won’t allow it. He knows better than to have his golden son married to a whore—“

Mid-rant, Brienne threw open the door, nearly shoving Tyrion out of the way. His jaw hit the floor when she stormed down the stairs, really looking like the beast Cersei pegged her to be. “Brienne!” He called after her, hating that his short legs couldn’t keep up with her long, surprisingly steady strides for someone who looked half-dead just a moment ago. 

Brienne grabbed the door open and it was almost rewarding to see the look of surprise on Cersei’s face. Almost. She was raw from Tyrion’s insinuations, she was dizzy and felt sick but most of all, she was fucking pissed off at what she’d been called right in her very home. Cersei backed away as Brienne loomed over her, the contrast between them emphasized even more: she delicate, beautiful even in her age, sleek, and her built like a tank, red as a swollen zit, wearing rumpled clothes. The socialite versus the lumberjack.

_“What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me.”_ She bit out.

Hate brimmed from her emerald eyes. “You’re a whore.”

Tyrion reached them just as Cersei finished her sentence. “Brienne, come back here—“

"Interesting,” Brienne drawled with uncharacteristic confidence. “From what Jaime told me about you, you’ve been spreading your legs to rip your husbands off their money. What do you call that?”

But Cersei smiled. “So. Jaime still talks about me.”

"Oh, yeah. He told me about how his thirty-year-old aunt,” Brienne paused then yelled, “ _raped_ him when he was fifteen years old!” 

It suddenly dawned on Tyrion that in spite of the late hour, it was the weekend. The bars and restaurants were still open and there were still people in the street. Nobody had been paying attention to them until Brienne started shouting. 

And she wasn’t done.

“His mother had just died and you took advantage. _You corrupted him._ You twisted him up so that he thought what you were doing was right! You were married and an adult, and you _raped_ your fifteen-year-old nephew!”

Cersei, suddenly gone deathly pale but still determined to come out on top, snapped back. “He loved me.”

“No, he didn’t. He thought what you had was love. You made him obsessed with you. You told him he was the only one you loved but that was a lie, wasn’t it, dear aunt Cersei?” Brienne snapped. “You raped him, and you were married, and you continued _raping him_ and fucking other men—“

"Shut up!” Cersei screamed, realizing that people were watching and some had begun to whip out their phones to record them. “How dare you! I will end you—“

“Cersei!” Tyrion warned her as he got between them, useless as he was due to his size.

“Look at what you’ve done!’ Cersei gestured sharply at the crowd. 

"I can face the consequences of my actions. What about you?” Brienne demanded calmly.

“Jaime will never love you,” Cersei hissed.

“Your words are nothing to me. You do not matter to me.” Brienne answered coolly. “Nothing you say or do will have the power to upset me in any way. You have nothing. _You are nothing, Cersei Lannister._ And you,” she said to Tyrion, her eyes bright with anger. “The next time you question my loyalty to your brother, I will put you in a sack and throw you in the sea.”

Then she turned back to the building and slammed the door behind her.

“What a hateful, ugly beast,” Cersei snarled, glaring at the door. But she was stammering. _Holy shit,_ Tyrion thought. 

“You’ve just been beaten, Aunt Cersei,” he said with relish, before he smirked at the door. He nodded and turned to the crowd., smiling and bowing with flourish “That, everyone, is a preview of a play that will debut in Mercy Theater next season. The title is Maiden Kicks Aunt, I mean, Maiden Kicks Ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed Brienne with backbone. That's why I first wrote a scene where Tyrion calls her on it and another where she goes, well, in effect, "This is Sparta!" on Cersei. Figured it would also be fun to write a scene similar to the fight between The Mountain and The Viper, but without spears and eye-gouging. Please tell me what you think!
> 
> I also thought to give some context to why Brienne always seems to want to leave Jaime whenever Oberyn does something. It's not that she still loves him but she wants to protect Jaime. I do agree with Tyrion though, that it's her lingering sentimentality of the man Oberyn used to be that would hurt her and Jaime. So he kind of pushes her, hence why she goes off on Cersei. She has to. She needs practice for the showdown with Oberyn!
> 
> Which will be the next chapter. :-)


	5. Losses and Gains

“You are wasting our time questioning the legality of the manner your client was served,” Ned Stark pointed out to Arthur Dayne, his gray eyes narrowing briefly at Oberyn before continuing. “He was not coerced, forced or threatened in any way. We are here to re-negotiate, if needed, of the terms outlined for this divorce. We are not leaving this room before we reach an agreement that is fair and satisfactory to both parties.” 

Arthur snorted. “You want to re-negotiate? Fine. My client refuses the divorce. He requests that his wife return home. That is the only deal we will be making today.”

“My client asks for nothing, only that your client sign the papers. She’s not contesting him nor suing him for any properties and assets acquired during their marriage. Your client froze their joint accounts and even that she’s not asking for a single penny. Why make things difficult?”

As Arthur and Ned continued arguing, Brienne met Oberyn’s seething stare. The stenographer hired to record the proceedings continued to tap on her machine, looking at the occupants in the room.

I loved this man, Brienne thought. One year ago, the gravity of the hate she could incite from someone would have been surprising. Oberyn had been giving her a taste of it from the moment she filed for divorce. Cersei showed her how much this hate could grow a couple of days ago. Residual shock lingered over her encounter with the woman, and she wondered how much of it was really from that night and the one she was feeling now, sitting right across from her husband. He was everything to me.

Tyrion was right to point out that her sentimentality would be her downfall. She had to get past that he was the knight who ran to her aid in that dorm hallway years ago, how he had protected her and coaxed her out of her shell patiently, loved her. She must remember that the boy earnestly asking her to marry him before his graduation, the boy who apologized for the absence of a ring then vowed to give her only the best diamond when he had money, was no more. Just as she was no longer that girl. 

The effort was the equivalent of pulling something by the roots, imbedded deep in the ground for a long time. Because it was not as easy as willing herself to forget that it was Oberyn who showed her how it was to be needed that he couldn’t be without her. Despite her misgivings about being engaged so young, Brienne, at that point, was certain she was never going to love somebody as much. No one would need and love her as he did. Was it any surprise that he was the centre of her world, the stillness and the tilting point, compass and lodestar, the lighthouse in the dark for a long time? 

How was she to know that the afternoons when he got off early from work and picked her up from school and take her to his one-bedroom shithole of an apartment that had been both heaven and haven for her that someday they would be in a room such as this, cold and austere, she fighting to be away from him and he stubbornly refusing to let her go? _Why won’t he let me go?_

She couldn’t go there. Brienne took a sip of water to relieve the dryness in her tongue. Her head and body were still woozy from the wine consumed last Saturday. The emotional impact of the fight with Cersei had resulted in a stomach bug, or was it the steak? She had been throwing up since Sunday. This morning, her stomach was clear but as the hour of the meeting with Oberyn and his lawyer closed in, she had to race for the toilet. Jaime had to extract a promise from her to see a doctor today.

Her mind drifted back to the ongoing war around her to hear the outrageous conditions Arthur was reading aloud, Oberyn looking smug. Brienne fought to keep calm as each got more ridiculous than the next. When Arthur finished, he sat back and told Ned, “I believe my client’s demands are reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” Bienne cried out, startling the three men in the room with her outburst. Sapphire eyes burning, she said to Oberyn, “I am not going back to you. I don’t care if you promise to get a job that won’t have you traveling as much, that you would forgive me for my indiscretion with Jaime Lannister. I am not asking for your forgiveness. And it’s too late, Oberyn. We can’t go back to the way things used to be.”

“You’re doing this because I reneged on my promise to be with you and start a family,” he pointed out.

“I want a divorce because I don’t love you anymore!” Brienne exploded, sickened at how obtuse and arrogant he was. “I don’t want you, I refuse to be with you in any capacity! Look at how you’re handling this, resorting to lies and false information about Jaime—“

“Brienne,” Ned cautioned her, putting a hand on her wrist but she snatched her arm away.

“How can you think that after all that I would still go back to you? Why would you still want me?” 

Oberyn slammed his fist on the table. “Because I fucking love you, you wretched woman! After all you’ve done, the humiliation you’ve caused me, I still love you! You should be grateful—“

“Grateful!”

“Arthur, control your client!” Ned demanded.

“Oberyn, calm down—“ Arthur tried but Oberyn gave him a glare so sharp if it were a sword it would split his skull in two.  
“I saved you and gave you the respect you never had. I loved you and did everything to give you the best kind of life and you go and fuck another man—“

His words were pushing Brienne to the limits of a temper that had begun to fray and shred. Fed up, she shot back, _“What life?_ What life when it wasn’t with _you?_ ” 

“Gods damn you, Brienne!”

“One more word from your client—“ Ned warned Arthur, who by then was admonishing Oberyn. Oberyn continued to mutter under his breath while Brienne glowered at him. It dawned on her that as they argued and made the walls tremble with their shouts, they had shot to their feet. A hot wave of embarrassment hit her right in the face but continued to glower at Oberyn, whose jaw and fists were clenched. Never, never had they been this angry at each other, she had never foreseen this, even when the distance grew between them. She refused to show any signs of backing down, knowing that just the slightest would have him pressing even more until he wore her down.

That wasn’t happening.

“My client refuses all conditions as stated. It is a divorce she wants.” Ned reiterated when things calmed after a few seconds. He cocked an eyebrow at Arthur and said sharply, “Tell your client to sit down.”

“Oberyn,” Arthur said, sighing. Oberyn cast him a murderous look before he sank down hard on his seat. Brienne sat down too. 

Ned reached into the folder for more papers, fanning them out. “These are their joint assets, properties, accounts. You will notice that Ms. Tarth is not demanding half her share, which she is legally entitled to, on anything. She will turn everything over to Mr. Martell as soon as the divorce is finalized. I’d like to put it on record that Miss Tarth is not contesting Mr. Martell of anything he believes he rightfully deserves,” he said, glancing at the stenographer.

_“Miss Tarth,_ ” Oberyn spat resentfully. “You’re my wife.”

“Oberyn,” Arthur snapped impatiently. 

“I haven’t been for a long time.” Brienne said quietly. 

Her resigned, tired delivery reached something in Oberyn. The anger vanished from his face, replaced by something that looked like genuine hurt.

“I wish to speak with my wife,” he announced, looking at her. “Alone.”

“No.” Brienne and Ned declared.

“You’ll deny him from communicating directly with his wife?” Arthur pointed out.

Brienne nodded at Ned. He said, “It was brought to my attention that the two instances my client has been alone with yours, he sexually assaulted her and tried to force her to have sex with him so that he would sign the papers. He also made the clear threat to make public false and very damaging information regarding my client’s friend, Jaime Lannister, if she did not comply.”

“Sexual assault, really,” Oberyn chuckled cruelly. He smirked as Brienne reddened. “You wanted my cock, baby. You were wet.”

“Strike that from record,” Arthur instructed the stenographer while giving him a warning look. “If sexual assault actually took place, why are we knowing about this now? Why didn’t Mrs. Martell report this?”

“Miss Tarth reserves the right whether to report such an incident or not. But rest assured, the assault and the attempt to force her—“

“I didn’t force her!” Oberyn raged. “These are baseless, malicious accusations invented by this woman who has lied and deceived her husband—“

“Calm your client, Dayne, or this meeting is over.”

“These are dubious charges. You intend to paint my client as a violent, unreasonable man,” Arthur protested.

“So far, I haven’t seen anything this morning to sway me from that impression,” Ned said. “I meant it when I said we won’t be leaving this room without Oberyn Martell’s signature. If he continues with his disturbing behavious and drags the proceedings some more, Miss Tarth is prepared to take him to court.” To Oberyn, he said directly, “You won’t like what I’ll do to you there.”

Oberyn’s face was bland. “Did you just threaten me, Ned Stark?” He said mockingly, then to Arthur, he remarked, “Was that a threat?”

“My lawyer is simply saying that I will fight you,” Brienne spoke up. “I am ready for this divorce to show the worst of us to the world, I am ready for you to try hurting the ones I love because I will hurt you more than you could possibly comprehend.” Ned held up his hand to signal the stenographer to stop recording but Brienne shook her head. “You’ve given me a taste of what you are prepared to do. You betrayed yourself. But I swear that once this is over, you will be the only one hurt. And I will get what I want.” 

Oberyn laughed. “Wow, baby. So this is what happens when that Lannister fucks you. You grow claws and teeth.”

“I will bring the fight to you, if need be.”

“It won’t be a fight, Brienne.” Oberyn said. “A fight implies that the parties involved have an equal chance of winning. I can’t say that for us.”

“No, indeed.”

“You’re on the losing team, Ned,” Oberyn told him.

Brienne caught his gaze and held it. “You’ve already lost. You just don’t know it yet.”

 

 

When Brienne texted that the first day of divorce proceedings were brutal, Jaime knew what he had to do. He made lamb with sweet potatoes and baby carrots, a favourite of Brienne’s, and swung by the pastry shop for blueberry cheesecake.

As the lamb was cooking, he scattered rose petals on the floor leading to the bathroom. He would have to draw the bath when she arrived else she’d arrive to tepid or cool water. He put out a display of luxurious bath oils and bath creams. In their bed, he scattered chocolates. 

Jaime didn’t see himself as a romantic but he enjoyed doing these things for Brienne. The littlest bit of attention to her comfort made her so grateful that he wondered if Oberyn ever made the time to find out what she really liked. This made her sad and angry all at once.

When the lamb was ready, he artfully scattered the vegetables around it, excited to see the look on Brienne’s face when she arrived. She needed to forget this day and recharge. The meeting may have been unfruitful but it had given them a glimpse of how Oberyn was and what kind Arthur might do. Ned wasn’t very worried. He also knew that Brienne had Tyrion look up her husband’s financial activities and there were red flags everywhere. If Tyrion did as promised, the Westeros Bureau of Internal Revenue would be knocking on Oberyn Martell’s door soon.  
Jaime was taking a sip of delicious wine when the buzzer rang. Did Brienne forget her keys? He tapped the button. “Who is it?”

“It’s Uncle Gerion, lad. Can I come in?”

Jaime glanced at the room then at his watch. Brinne would be arriving in a few minutes but he didn’t want to turn his uncle away either. “Uh, sure.” He pressed the button that opened the door.

He heard Uncle Gerion climb up the stairs so Jaime opened it to welcome him. Gerion smiled upon seeing Jaime and clapped him on the back.

“There you are. Where’s Brienne?”

“Just about to arrive. Come in,” Jaime invited him.

Gerion fell heavily on the corduroy couch, giving it an amused look. Jaime pulled out two bottles of beer from the fridge, popped them open and offered one to Gerion. Gerion took a long pull before sighing and putting it down on a coaster. Jaime got comfortable on an armchair.

“I’m sorry for how I left,” Jaime told him. “We haven’t seen each for a long time and I leave like that.”

“Your father was attacking the woman you loved. I didn’t expect you to just stand there and take it,” Gerion assured him. “But I’m here to talk to you about something. . .related to that. Well, not really. What you said.”

Jaime was puzzled. “I said quite a lot of things, Uncle.”

“Yeah, you did. But there’s something. . .something I want to ask you about.”

“Sure. If I can answer it.”

Gerion took a pull from the beer again, as if bracing himself.

“What do you know about the father of Cersei’s children?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is up!
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and comments from the previous chapter. I hope you like this one too.


	6. Bittersweet

Brienne’s tension over the meeting with Oberyn broke at last, a wall crashing down hard and mightily and letting in a tidal wave of sensations and emotions. Hunger. Dizziness. Relief. Tears. The meeting had been far from ideal as it ended in an impasse but she would face the next series minus the quaking knees and zero sentiment. A small part of her mourned for what she had lost but it was nearly infinitesimal with what she received in exchange. A love had died, and while the last two, three years were horrible, the time before that had been the best in her life until she met Jaime. That, she would never regret.

Ned took her out for a late lunch and was going to bring her to a nice restaurant when she asked, blushing, if they could hit one of the diners downtown, instead. She needed something greasy and as close to a home-cooked meal as possible, as well as fast and no-nonsense service. If Ned looked taken aback, he managed to hide it. Still, they stood out in Hot Pie in their dark coats and tailored suits in a crowd consisting mostly of people working in nearby construction sites and mom-and-pop businesses. He ordered a rich, bean stew and coffee while Brienne eagerly chose blueberry pancakes and eggs sunny side-up from the all-day breakfast menu. 

Over their meal, they strategized for the next showdown. Oberyn was going to be more rabid than ever and may just release damaging information about her and Jaime when pushed some more. Brienne flushed as she took a sip of her iced tea, remembering too well her outburst at Cersei. Tyrion had tried to play it off as a theater-in-the-streets kind of thing but a video had popped up in YouTube, nevertheless. Right now he was trying to have it taken down, reasoning that while it was a production in the streets, he had not sanctioned filming. The uploading of the video was tantamount to violating copyright and piracy laws. He was a genius. Brienne hoped Oberyn didn’t get wind of that, however, before it was taken down. 

She remained firm on her condition: she would not contest nor demand Oberyn for any of her share in their joint assets and properties, though legally entitled, as all she wanted was a divorce. She reluctantly agreed to let Ned include an alimony clause if Oberyn refused again, citing that since she was waiving her rights to assets and properties, she at least deserved to retain a modicum of the lifestyle he had given her. This would be for naught once internal revenue services went after him but Ned didn’t see the harm of threatening to go after Oberyn’s money at the moment. He added that Sansa, who had served Oberyn his papers (this shocked Brienne as she still remembered his daughter as a little girl) had video evidence showing that he too, had cheated. Ned was clearly uncomfortable disclosing this so she wondered what exactly did Sansa have or do to make Oberyn take the papers. 

She picked up the bill and he dropped her off at the museum. With the first meeting done, she found herself able to breathe a little easier. Work was the easiest it had been since leaving Oberyn though she was on her feet for the rest of the afternoon meeting with Catelyn about an upcoming exhibit, meeting with the catering company, seizing the opportunity to make contact with the elusive, Bear Island-based artist Jorah Mormont at Pod’s heads up. By the time she made it back to her desk, it was closing time and she was hungry once again. Brienne helped herself to the jar of gummy bears Pod kept at his desk and left a note apologizing for eating all and that she’d be replacing them. The candy quieted the hunger pangs in her stomach long enough for her to ride the cab and reach home.

Home had never been so heavenly until today, she realized as she unlocked the main door at the street, climbed up the steps and unlocked the one leading right into the apartment. Strains of soft, cello music stroked her ears from behind the door and she also detected the wonderful aroma of meat and spices. 

“I’m home!” She called out, pushing open the door. Jaime, sitting at the counter with his back to her, turned around and gave her a strained smile. Frowning, she paused halfway to him and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“What? Uh, nothing. Just a little tired from cooking,” he said, getting off the stool and opening his arms to her. “Come here, wench.” 

With a mixture of both relief and joy, she threw herself against his chest, knocking him against the counter. He laughed over her apologies, tilting her face toward him for a kiss. His name was an almost-whisper from her lips before he took her mouth. Gods, he felt so good and so right like this, warm and solid, smelling of soap and vinyl records, holding her as if she precious and all that mattered. Her startled sob hit him right in the tongue and he pulled back, looking at her in confusion.

“Did I hurt you?” She could just lick him up looking so concerned.

“No.” She rested her forehead against his, touching his chest, his shoulders, his neck. This time she kissed him. His hands roamed her shoulders, the back of her waist, her hips. “I’m just. . .I’m so glad to be here, Jaime.”

“Me too,” he told her, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks. He cupped her cheeks and she blinked up at him owlishly. He was precious and all that mattered, she realized.

They kissed some more before reluctantly letting go, Jaime pointing out that he wanted her fed before he took her. She blushed as he pulled her behind him, tugging her so her arm wrapped around his taut stomach. In her heels she was much taller so she had to bend to kiss his shoulder. He leaned against her breasts as he presented the fancy table setting, complete with candlelight and food artfully arranged so it looked more appetizing than ever. Her smile lit up the room and she squeezed him tighter, delighted and touched. 

Jaime, it turned out, was determined to remind her how much he loved her. He sat her down, put a napkin on her lap, presented to her a bottle of her favourite wine before pouring its contents into a goblet. He put a very generous portion of the lamb on her plate and piled nearly all the vegetables there, ignoring her protests that he was leaving none for himself. Jaime often accused her of prioritizing other people’s welfare over her own when he did exactly the same. So she had to feed him, reminding him sternly she couldn’t have a weak, starving man in bed. 

When he unveiled luscious blueberry cheesecake, Brienne all but attacked it. He sliced her a generous portion but she asked for a second, a third. The pink in her cheeks deepened with every request but Jaime did as she asked, barely hiding an amused smile. 

But as a loud, very unlady-like burp burst out of her mouth, there was no stopping his laugh. Embarrassed, she sputtered, “Sorry!”

“No apology needed, wench,” he said, taking her by hand and drawing her to his lap, ignoring her hisses that she was a lot heavier due to what she had just eaten. “That,” he whispered, licking her throat and nipping her chin while he caressed her breasts through the shirt, “is the best compliment to the chef.” Then he pulled open her blouse.

She gasped as his mouth claimed a nipple and sucked noisily. Her insides clenched at the ultra-sharp sensation of his teeth and tongue on the tender tissue. “J-Jaime,” she stuttered, clutching at his golden head and inadvertently pushing her breast deeper in his hungry mouth. “Wait, wait— _oooh._ ” Her feeble protest ended in a sinful moan as he tugged off the rest of her blouse and sucked the other nipple. The swollen bit of flesh he had just freed tightened painfully in the cool air.

It was too much yet not enough but gods damn it, her nipples were very sensitive at the moment. Fortunately, Jaime transferred his lips to her throat, then to the hollow just under the tip of her ear. When the wet slide of his tongue touched the heated skin, she jumped at the startlingly intense sensation. Eyes wide, her hips started to move on their own accord, driven by a hot, _insane_ wave of overwhelming lust. Jaime’s tongue in her ear was not helping slow things down but she was too shocked and confused at _how much_ she was feeling. Then his hands cupped her breasts, squeezing the slight mounds, plucking at her nipples. _What was happening to her body?_ Her vocabulary was reduced to, “Jaime Jaime Jaime Jaime— _oh gods!_ ” 

Shudders wracked her body that if she wasn’t warm and soft he’d think she was having convulsions. Brienne closed her eyes as she rubbed against him desperately, wailing at the clothes between them. She yanked his head away from her ear, ignoring his grunt of pain at the hairs she was pulling. She shoved her tongue past his lips and groaned deeply, the sound that of a growling bear. With a gasp, she slumped heavily against him, her body slick with sweat. Her breath was wheezing, rough pants. 

Jaime, blinking and frowning against her shoulder, mumbled, “Did you just—“

She nodded, pushing her nose on his shoulder in humiliation. “Uh-huh.”

 _“Fuck.”_ His arms went around her still-trembling form. “Holy Seven Hells.”

“I don’t know what happened.” Finally summoning the courage to look at him, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck are you apologizing for? For coming on my jeans? For coming when I’ve only started kissing you?” He asked, grinning at how her freckles stood out more vividly against her fever-warm, flushed skin. “You’re all about giving me the best compliments tonight, aren’t you, wench? That was fucking hot. Let’s do it again,” he said, raising her skirt. He yelped as she swatted his hand sharply.

“I don’t know what’s happening, Jaime. I’m. . .I’m so overwhelmed with everything these days.” She said, getting off his lap and running her fingers through her sweat-damp hair. She pulled up her blouse, saw the missing buttons and just held it closed. Leaning her hip against the table, she sighed deeply. “Fuck, I’m sorry, okay? I’m just. . .I don’t feel myself lately.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re apologizing for again.” He told her. His smile was unapologetically lecherous. “I don’t mind, wench.”

“For once could you call me Brienne?” She said, her voice suddenly sharp. Jaime jerked back in surprise and she froze. Groaning helplessly, she wailed, “See? I’m like a yo-yo. I just. . .I just feel everything so much these days. I’ve been out of sorts. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”

“What I’ve noticed is you’ve been getting a lot of headaches. When are you seeing a doctor?”

She frowned and crossed her arms. “You don’t see a doctor just because you have a headache. It’s the divorce, work, moving in together—don’t get me wrong, I love it, but maybe there’s just too much happening and it's taking a lot out of me than I thought?”

“It won’t hurt just to make sure it isn’t anything serious,” he pointed out, reaching for her hand and squeezing it in comfort. “If you were throwing up, I’d think you’re knocked up but you’re, ah, don’t hit me, okay—but you’re, shall we say, you love eating more than usual lately.” 

She laughed at his joke and watched as he stood up. She quickly opened her legs to accommodate him between them. She released her hold on the blouse and let it fall to her waist before wrapping him in her arms. Their kiss was long and open-mouthed. Still keeping his lips latched to hers, he scooped her by the bottom and settled her on the edge of the table. She grunted at the motion that felt too sudden. His hands resumed squeezing her breasts a little too eagerly.

The throbbing in her head that had become familiar in the last couple of weeks eased back before it bloomed violently. Squeezing her eyes shut, she broke away from the kiss but continued to hold tightly. Jaime licked her collarbone and her throat swelled up. His hand lowered to her waist and her stomach flipped suddenly, as if she were on a rollercoaster. 

“Um, Jaime—“ she muttered, swallowing and gulping. Her nails dug in his cloth-covered shoulders.

He stroked her knee. “Thinking of complimenting me again, Brienne?”

That did it. She gasped and pushed him away, barely noticing that she’d sent him flying toward the sink. She swung off the table and ran to the bathroom, skidding on her heels. The trail of rose petals were particularly hazardous until she kicked off her shoes and ran the rest of the way. When she shoved against the bathroom door, the scent of the unlit but too-floral, thick smell of candles proved too much and pulled an anguished groan from her. Clutching her stomach, she staggered to her toilet.

_Jaime had put rose petals in the toilet!_

“Fuck the gods,” Brienne moaned right before she threw up.

 

When she first moved in with Jaime, Brienne was not too comfortable with the fact that they were the only two people in the entire building, small as it was. She had lived in the suburbs with Oberyn and while she wasn’t very friendly with the neighbours, their presence gave her some sense of security. 

As she and Jaime argued through the night, she realized the one good thing about having the place to themselves: there were no neighbours to overhear or gossip about them the next day. 

She was two weeks late. For Jaime, it was more than enough evidence that she was pregnant, ignoring her loud protests that her period stopped for a few months following Selwyn’s death. She stubbornly shot down all his arguments about her weird appetite, headaches, ignored the betrayal in his face when she admitted throwing up at random times. Not everyday, she clarified, but sometimes. When he offered to hit the nearest pharmacy for a pregnancy test, she had screamed at him. Jaime actually looked scared until he fought back and told her, quite loudly, that if she wanted to eliminate the possibility of a pregnancy, then she was going to have to take the test. 

Her face dropped and he saw that he got through her at last. Taking a deep breath, he finally asked the question that had been haunting him ever since she outlined the reasons why she couldn’t possibly be pregnant.

“I know this is a shitty time, wench, but if this—“ he gestured loosely at her stomach—“if this is real, would it be so bad? Having my child?”

He looked so lost and unsure, so unlike the arrogant, cocky Jaime she knew. Brienne hugged herself and finally admitted the fear eating her up.

“What if it isn’t yours?”

It took only those six words to deliver what turned out to be a killing blow. Suddenly, her last night with Oberyn came rushing back. She had never thought of it again but it all came back. His hot breath. Him rutting inside her. Her sobs. Brienne couldn’t stop the tears dripping down her cheeks.

“Just because Oberyn may be the biological father doesn’t make the child any less mine,” Jaime said after what felt like a long time. Startled, Brienne raised her head from her lap and her heart broke at the tears he had somehow controlled though his eyes looked dangerously watery. Sniffing, she got to her feet and went to him. She bit her lip as her tears continued to fall, surging down her face when his palm cupped her cheek before it pressed gently on her stomach.

“I love you, Brienne. I love all that is you and part of you. That’s the simple truth.” 

She grabbed his hand and pressed kisses around it. “Really?”

His look was gently chiding. “You can be such an idiot sometimes, wench.”

She laughed through her tears and he pulled her in his arms. She had begun to disintegrate but here was Jaime, his strength and support, his love, once again putting her back together. She embraced him as his lips moved along her hairline.  
“Now will you let me get the test?”

She looked at him. “And if I’m pregnant, Jaime?”

His hand touched her stomach again. “Then we have more to fight for.”

As Jaime collected every brand of pregnancy test in the pharmacy, Brienne loaded up on water. She was close to bursting by the time he made it home as she held off peeing. She shut the door to his face, stared at the paper bag crammed with the tests and got to work.

Brienne let herself out of the bathroom and sat with Jaime on the floor, putting her head on his shoulder. He kissed her and touched her as they waited for the alarm to ring. When it did, they looked at each other.

“Jaime? If. . .if I’m pregnant, I want you to know,” she said, her voice faltering and her rapid heartbeat making it difficult to get the words out. 

He pushed a lock of straw-blond hair behind her ear. “Tell me.”

“I want your children. Even if Oberyn is the biological father, well. . .” Her eyes dropped to their joined hands before looking at him. His eyes were so green and calm. “This is your child more than it will ever be his. You are the best man I know, Jaime. You are the father this child deserves. I love you very much.” 

Then she kissed him, deeply, drawing from his strength. And he gave it to her. This time, his tears fell. She whispered she loved him over and over, as if was a talisman and a prayer through an endless night.

Together, they stood up. She continued to hold his hand as she opened the door to the bathroom and went in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've had your suspicions for a while now that Brienne may be pregnant. I apologize for ending in a cliffhanger once again. :-) Please don't hate me. Tell me what you think! I'm so touched with how invested you are in this story. 
> 
>  
> 
> Part 7, To Go Forward, You Must Go Back, will be posted in a few hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! The next part is up.
> 
> I'm finally on tumblr. Please find me at OhCaptainTarthister. I haven't posted anything there yet but will soon.


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